


Rest & Love

by missKafka



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s02e20 AC/DC, Eventual Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Partners to Lovers, Rare Pairings, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9878696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missKafka/pseuds/missKafka
Summary: Charles takes care of Jake after he gets hit by a car and refuses to let him heal in peace. Being cooped up together, again, causes them to re-evaluate their friendship. Set after 2x20





	1. Rest & Love

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Jake/Charles. Being cooped up turns into falling in love/realizing they have feelings for each other. 
> 
> Written for sapphoisburning as a part of Fandom Trumps Hate 2017.

Breathing hurt. Broken ribs sucked.

“This sucks,” Jake complained.

He was confined to his bed and begrudgingly watching a lion documentary on Animal Planet. It was the only thing on TV that they had both agreed on.

“I know, Jakey,” Boyle said from beside him.

Charles hadn't left Jake's side since he had given him a ride home from the hospital. He refused to leave. For some reason, he thought Jake was a flight risk who would flee his apartment the first chance he was given and injure himself even further. He supposed that was a fair conclusion to make, considering the past accident filled few days, but it was still aggravating to be treated like a child who couldn't look after himself.

“You don’t have to stay you know,” Jake told Charles, trying yet again to get his friend to leave and let him heal in peace.

Charles disagreed. “Yes, I do. The doctor left very clear instructions. You have a concussion and you were only allowed to leave because someone—me—would be monitoring you for any complications.”

“It’s only a tiny concussion,” Jake grumbled.

His grumbling was ignored.

“Why don’t you try and get some sleep?” Charles suggested. “Sleep and rest is the best thing you can do to heal yourself.”

“Fine,” Jake agreed, turning onto his side. He stopped abruptly and bit back a groan when pain erupted from his fragile ribs. Cursing his stupidly easy to break ribs, he turned back to his previous position, pulled the blanket up to his chin, and closed his eyes.

‹ **♥ ›**

Jake awoke to the smell of something delicious coming from his kitchen. Moving like an old man, he carefully climbed out of bed, tugging on the waistband of the sweatpants that had fallen below his hips in his sleep, and slowly limped his way over to the edge of his bedroom. After what felt like an eternity, he finally reached the edge of the bedroom and peered down apprehensively at the ladder that would take him down to the living room. He really needed to move out of Gina’s old apartment. He had originally thought the ladder was cool and would be like having a bunk bed / tree house, but now it just looked like another way he would injure himself further.

Summing up courage, he placed his good foot on the first rung of the ladder and carefully placed his traitorous broken toed one on the next rung. He repeated the actions (good foot down a rung, then the traitor one, followed by the good one) with minimal pain. Jake was a few rungs shy of finally reaching the blessed ground when the room started to spin. He took a deep breath, wincing when it aggravated his ribs, and leaned his forehead against the wooden rung in front of him.

“Jake!” Charles cried out in alarm.

Hurried footsteps sounded against the wood floor before he felt two warm, sturdy hands against his back. Charles assured him, “I got you.”

He concentrated on the wooden ladder rungs beneath his hands and the hands on his back to ground himself from the Tilt-A-Whirl the room had turned into.

“Let’s get you down," Charles suggested while one hand soothingly rubbed circles against his back. He gave him another minute before asking, “Are you ready to move?”

Jake took another deep breath before cautiously opening his eyes. There were no more room acrobatics he was glad to note. “I’m good now,” he assured Charles. Slowly, he took the remaining few steps down the ladder while the hands on his back remained, ready to catch him at any misstep.

When both feet were finally on the ground, Charles took Jake’s elbow and guided him over to sit on the couch. Charles crouched down in front of him and peered into his eyes.

He announced his results, “No uneven pupils.” With the crisis handled, the panic began. “Are you okay? Is it your head? Should I call an ambulance? Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?” he asked frantically.

Jake rubbed his aching forehead. “I’m fine, Charles. I just got a little dizzy.”

Charles’s lips pursed in worry and his forehead wrinkled. He was not convinced.

He tried again to reassure his worried friend. “Really, I’m _fine_. You don’t have to worry, buddy.” Jake looked toward the small kitchen where steam was rising from something cooking on the stove. “What is that anyway?” he asked trying to change the subject. “It smells awesome.”

Charles beamed, as he often did when the topic of food was brought up. He stood up and gestured proudly towards his creation. “It’s Nanna Boyle’s famous chicken noodle soup. My mom always made it for me when I was sick. You’ll love it, Jake.”

He continued, “The key to a good noodle soup is handmade noodles. You didn’t have a pasta maker or a rolling pin,” he paused to give Jake a judgmental look for his lack of kitchen supplies, “so I had to make do with a pizza cutter and my hands. The broth has thinly sliced carrots, finely chopped onion, garlic, bay leaves, sage, some thyme, a touch of rosemary, a dash marjoram, and a sprinkling of salt and pepper,” he proudly listed. “And of course chicken, the main ingredient, which I simmered until it fell right off the bone. I would have preferred duck to the overused chicken, but I thought you would appreciate a classic.”

“Wow, Charles, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble. I’m—Wait,” Jake interrupted himself. “I don’t own any of that stuff.” He frowned. “I don’t even know what three of those things are.”

“I know. Your fridge and cupboards are a true disappointment.” He shook his head at him. “I don’t know how you live like this. Terry helped. He was happy to bring over anything I needed and check on you himself." He leaned in and shared conspiratorially, "I don’t think he believed me when I told him you were actually resting.”

“Terry was here?” Jake questioned. He hadn’t heard anyone stop by.

“Briefly,” he confirmed. “Terry made me promise to call him if you gave me any trouble. He’s still worried about you and wants you to rest and he will _make you_ if he has to,” Charles warned him. “It was very menacing when he said it and I think he may physically sit on you if you try to leave.”

“What am I a hostage?” Jake joked.

Charles laughed in a worryingly high pitched volume. “No!” His voice rose higher, “Hostage? That’s crazy, good sir.” He quickly escaped to the kitchen and rushed to change the subject. “Soup? Do you want some soup?” Cupboard doors opened and shut, dishes clinked and metal clanked as he moved through the kitchen. “I think I’m going to have some soup. What about you? Soup?”

Jake blinked. He wasn’t sure how he felt about apparently being held hostage—any hostage situation was generally bad—but the soup did smell yummy. Being held hostage in his own apartment by his best friend was a lot nicer than his last hostage situation when he had been held at gunpoint by Geoffrey Hoytsman. He mentally shrugged and went with it. “Yeah, I could eat.”

The soup was even better than it smelled. He could get behind this whole being held hostage thing.

‹ **♥ ›**

Jake was over being held hostage. It had lost it’s appeal around the time he realized Charles would not let him out of his sight, not even to use the bathroom. That had been an awkward conversation, but they had compromised and Jake could now close the door if Charles was standing outside said closed door.

Charles was completely overreacting. Jake had had one more _tiny_ dizzy spell when he stood up too fast from the couch—and may or may not have fallen if not for Charles’s quick reflexes—but Charles’s constant hovering was a complete overreaction. He loved his best friend, he really did, but Jake was going to kill him soon.

It had taken an unbelievably long time to win the fight to be able to take a shower with the door closed, not locked, but closed. It had been worth it, though. Jake had still smelled hospital-ly and had been in desperate need of a quick shower. The hot water had helped loosen his sore muscles and made him feel more like his strapping young self and less like a 90-year-old grandpa.

“Jake?” Charles called from outside the closed bathroom door. “You okay in there?”

He sighed and called back, “For the sixth time, yes! I’m fine.”

Jake sat down on the closed toilet lid and looked at his bare feet. He had successfully dressed in a zip-up hoodie, a pair of boxers, and another pair of sweatpants. Only the socks he held in his hand remained. He cautiously bent down, but abruptly stopped when it felt like Satan was stabbing him with a dull fork. Socks and bending over were overrated, he decided.

A droplet of water from his wet hair ran down his back causing him to shiver. Raising his arms above his head had proven to be overrated, too. He would rather have dripping wet hair than try to raise his arms again. Wet hair and no socks were two things he could live with until his body stopped betraying him with pain every time he moved wrong.

Getting to his bare feet, Jake sat his socks aside on the bathroom counter and opened the door. As expected, Charles was waiting for him. Jake tried again to change the mind of his stubborn friend. “You really don’t have to wait right outside the door.”

His plea was blatantly ignored. Charles’s only focus was on his wet hair. “No, this won’t do. You’ll catch a cold with wet hair.” He walked past him and picked up the towel Jake had thrown carelessly in the general direction of the towel rack. Towel in hand, Charles ordered Jake, “Sit down.”

Jake sighed and sat back down on the closed toilet seat. “I’m not going to get sick, Charles. I’m pretty sure that only applies if I go outside, which I can’t because you won’t let me,” he complained, growing increasingly frustrated with the situation he found himself in.

“Better safe than sorry.” Charles stood over him and began to dry his wet hair. “You’ve gotten hurt enough this week, Jake. I’m not taking any chances.”

Charles was gentle and, surprisingly, it wasn’t as weird as Jake thought it would have been to have your best friend towel dry your hair. When he was satisfied with his work, he hung up the towel on the towel rack. His eyes were instantly drawn to the socks sitting innocently on the bathroom counter. He looked to the socks, at Jake’s bare feet, then back to the socks.

“No,” Jake said.

Again, he was ignored. Charles picked up the socks and knelt down beside Jake. “Foot, please.”

This was getting ridiculous. He repeated himself, “No.”

Charles picked up his good foot first, slipped a sock over his cold foot, and placed his foot back on the cold ground. Jake felt like Cinderella. The idea of warm feet was appealing, and he did already have one sock on, so he lifted his less favorable foot and allowed Charles to slip the sock past his broken toes so gently that it barely hurt.

Finished, Charles got to his feet, took a step back and nodded at his own work. “Better.” He suddenly asked, “Hey, you wanna play Monopoly?”

Jake gasped in wonder. “Really?”

He had been banned from playing Monopoly by the squad years ago after a tiny incident involving Jake being a sore loser and a small fire that everyone blew  _way_  out of proportion. No one had agreed to play Monopoly with him ever since. Jake’s fine detective skills alerted him to the very high probability that this was only a diversion to force him to rest and keep him occupied like an unruly child, but it hardly mattered if Monopoly was back on the table.

“Yeah, Terry sent it along with the food. He thought you might like it. I already have it set-up.”

Terry had been the most vocal about Jake being banned from Monopoly for life. Jake must be worse off than he thought if Terry was finally lifting his lifetime Monopoly ban. He mentally shrugged and limped back to the living room. A lifetime ban removed was still a victory even if it was done out of pity.

Charles trailed behind him asking, “Do you want to be Rapunzel, Ariel, Belle or Cinderella?”

 _Huh?_ Jake saw the bright pink Princess Monopoly edition set-up on the coffee table. _Oh, that makes more sense_ , he thought. Well, the joke’s on Sarge, because Jake actually had a ton of fun the last time he played Princess Monopoly with the twins. Cagney and Lacey had been more than happy to play several rounds of the board game with him while Terry finalized some last minute case-related things.

Jake didn’t have to think about his game token choice for the epic battle that was about to take place. “Rapunzel,” he claimed as his token. Glowing hair that healed stuff and a frying pan as a weapon was insanely awesome. He was Rapunzel all the way.

“I’m Cinderella,” Charles proudly declared.

Jake won 3 out of 7 games. It would have been 4 out of 8 games if he hadn’t fallen asleep on the couch. He has a sneaking suspicion that Charles snuck a pain pill into the chocolate pudding snack he had handed him after their first game. It would explain his poor playing and his sudden attack of the sleepys.

‹ **♥ ›**

He awoke the next day stretched out on the couch with a blanket covering him, a pillow under his head, and his feet resting on something soft. He was happy to note that only a slight twinge of pain followed after each deep breath he took.

“Hey, Sleepy Head.”

Jake jumped. Charles was sitting on the far end of the couch with an open book in his hand and Jake’s feet resting in his lap. This was why he didn’t like taking the pain pills the hospital had given him. It really screwed with his detective skills. He rubbed his hands over his face and tried to wake up more. “What time is it?” he asked.

“3:15. I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away.”

 _Stupid pain pills_. He didn’t like losing so much time.

Charles was looking at him in concern again. “How are you feeling? Are you hungry? I made brunch if you’re feeling up to eating.”

“I’m fine,” Jake assured him. He took stock of himself. He did feel fine. Sleeping had helped. _Maybe_ this resting thing had it’s merits. He considered Charles’s other question. “I could eat,” he said.

“Great! I made a bacon and cheese quiche that I think you’ll love.” Charles scooted out from underneath Jake’s feet and patted his leg. “Be right back.”

Jake heard the squeak of the oven door opening and closing and the clink of plates and silverware rattling before Charles came back carrying a plate with a fork resting beside something yellow and vaguely pie shaped. Jake couldn’t help but stare at it in trepidation. Charles eagerly handed him the plate and briefly disappeared back in the kitchen before returning with a glass of water that he sat down on the coffee table.

Charles gently lifted Jake’s feet and slid back to his previous position of human foot rest. He nodded at the yellow thing. “Go ahead,” he urged looking at him, “Tell me what you think.”

Jake didn’t know what a quiche was and Charles’s cooking tended to be hit or miss depending on what exotic ingredients he had decided to add. Although, if Charles was working with what was in Jake’s kitchen then he should be safe because he mostly survived on takeout and Cap'n Crunch. He took a cautious bite. “Umm, this is really good, Charles," he praised the delicious fancy cheesy-bacon-eggs-yellowy creation.

Charles beamed. “Thanks! I wanted to add goat cheese, but you only had cheddar.”

As nice as it was to be cooked for and taken care of so completely, it wasn’t unnecessary. “You don’t have to cook for me, Charles.” He tried to reason again with his stubborn friend. “I can look after myself. You don’t have to stay here to babysit me.”

“No can do, Jakey. I’m not leaving until you’re better. It’s my solemn duty as your best friend to help and protect you and I take my duties very seriously.”

Jake sighed and ate his delicious pie-shaped-egg thing. Once Charles pulled out the best friend duty there was no winning against him. He could be extremely stubborn when it came to Jake’s well-being and any perceived threat to his best friend duties.

‹ **♥ ›**

“Charles, you aren’t sleeping in the same bed as me,” he told Charles from beside said bed where they both stood locked in a power of wills. He was looking forward to a good night’s sleep in his spacious bed where he would be sleeping—alone. There was no way Charles was _ever_ going to crawl under the covers with him. Nope. No way.

 _Time to pull out the big guns,_ he thought while invoking his inner Amy and putting on his rarely ever seen no-nonsense face that would have made Amy proud. He stared down his best friend until Charles removed his hand from the covers and took a small step back.

Charles put his hands on his hips and asked, “What if you need me in the middle of the night?”

“Then you’ll be on the couch downstairs a few feet away.”

“But—” he began to protest.

“Charles…” Jake closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. He sighed and looked Charles in the eyes. “Buddy, I need a little space, alright?”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, just go downstairs for tonight,” he practically begged.

“Fine,” Charles relented, “but I don’t like this.”

“I’ll be fine.” Jake crawled into bed—alone—and closed his eyes. He could feel Charles staring at him. “Goodnight, Charles.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

After a long moment, Jake finally heard footsteps turn away and descend the ladder.

‹ **♥ ›**

Pain. Jake awoke to darkness with a burning pain in his ribs. He silently took stock of the situation and found himself laying on his stomach with his face smushed into his pillow. It was not a pleasant position for his broken ribs.

Jake mentally counted _one…two…three_ before twisting onto his back. He couldn’t stop the gasp of pain that slipped past his lips that seemed to echo in the silent apartment. Closing his eyes tight, he took a few calming breaths and tried to fall back to sleep. Luckily, he hadn’t woken Charles.

As he drifted back to sleep, he could have sworn a softly sung melody followed him back into his dreams.

 _Lullaby, and goodnight, in the skies stars are bright._  
_May the moon's silvery beams bring you sweet dreams._  
_Close your eyes now and rest, may these hours be blessed.  
__'Til the sky's bright with dawn, when you wake with a yawn._

‹ **♥ ›**

Neither one of them mentioned the previous night. Jake was unsure if the lullaby he heard had been Charles or a dream. During the disastrous stakeout at the Ukrainian mafia drop house, Charles had taken to randomly singing lullabies after 10 o’clock, which had driven Jake insane. Last night, though, it had been oddly comforting. Jake got dressed and pushed all thoughts of lullabies from his mind.

Charles must have been listening for Jake to finally rise from bed because by the time he came downstairs brunch was already halfway prepared. He was preparing Jake’s favorite meal—grilled cheese sandwiches dipped in Campbell's canned tomato soup.

As soon his Charles laid eyes on him, Jake was ushered to the couch and soon thereafter a plate and bowl with his favorite food was thrust into his hands. Although Jake wasn’t a culinary genius, he did know how to make a good grilled cheese sandwich, but his never tasted this good. Somehow Charles always made his favorite sandwich better than he ever could. Even tomato soup directly from the can somehow tasted better when Charles made it.

He was only half listening as Charles talked his ear off beside him about being prevented from making the sandwich and soup at his usual gourmet level of excellence due to numerous missing ingredients and kitchen supplies. He continued to bemoan his lackluster pantry and mourned how much better the sandwich and soup could have been if only Jake had had yeast to make the bread, ripe tomatoes for the sauce, a drop of fresh lemon, and fresh herbs for seasoning.

Before now, Jake hadn’t realized how much work his best friend had always put into making his favorite food for him. After a bad case, bad breakup, or sometimes just because, Charles would bring him his comfort food at work. Charles had been taking care of him in subtle, loving ways over the years that Jake hadn’t paid much attention to beyond a simple thank you.

Oblivious to Jake’s thoughts, Charles continued talking about food. “I was looking up recipes earlier while you were sleeping and came across Cap'n Crunch Chicken Tenders. Perfect, right?! I know how much you love your Cap'n and it’s one of the only things you have in your cupboards _and_ we have extra chicken leftover from the soup. Win, win. I’ll make it for dinner tonight as the main course. The side dish will be a surprise,” he announced excitedly.

He continued, lost in a world of food possibilities, “Tomorrow I’m thinking something with noodles. I’m still pondering the options with your limited food. Oh, that reminds me,” Charles said digging into his pocket and producing a long handwritten list. “I’m going to have to pop-out to the store soon. I have the essentials of a good pantry already written down—your days of an empty fridge and bare cupboards are over my friend—but didn’t know if you wanted anything. I do have peanuts and fruit rollups written down, I saw you were almost out. Did you want anything else from the store?”

Jake was overwhelmed. Charles kept cooking for him like it was second nature and even had future meals planned, ones that incorporated his favorite foods. He was even going _grocery shopping_ for him, too. He stayed by Jake’s side as if taking care of him wasn’t an obligation or a tedious task, but something he honestly enjoyed doing. Jake didn’t know what to do with that level of devotion and caring. Charles was always there for him and he wasn’t going anywhere, he didn’t even consider leaving an option. People didn’t do that for Jake. People didn’t drop everything for him. His dad never had and as much as his mom loved him she was too busy trying to provide for them as a single mother to be able to drop everything to care for him. He didn’t know how to handle this…this suffocation—this drowning in emotion. He wasn't equipped for this.

Jake snapped.

“Charles, stop!” he shouted, jumping to his feet, and ignoring the pain that followed. “I don’t need you to take care of me. You don’t have to stay here with me. Go home. Go back to work.” He deflated. “Just…stop.”

“No!” Charles yelled surging to his feet, refusing to back down. “You could have died, Jake. Do you get that?” He took a menacing step towards him. “You were hit by a car and you could have died!” He admitted in a small voice, “I could have lost you.”

 _Oh_. He should have noticed what was going on right in front of him. Charles's overprotective behavior was just him reacting to Jake’s near death experience. Even if getting hit by a car hadn’t caused serious damage, he still could have died if the car had been going faster when it had hit him. Jake had been so focused on himself that he hadn’t stopped to consider how Charles might have felt about seeing his best friend injured.

Jake took a calming breath and braced himself for a terrifying feelings talk. He could do this—for Charles he could do this. _Here we go_. “That’s the job, buddy,” he said, placing a hand on Charles’s shoulder. “There’s always the risk that one of us will get hurt. I know we joke about me dying in a fiery explosion on the job and you killing yourself at my funeral, but you’d be fine without me—we both know that.” As much as Jake liked to think the world would stop turning if he died and no one would be able to go on living without him, it wasn’t the case. “If the worst happens and I die you’ll be fine, Charles,” he assured him. "Any detective would be lucky to be your partner. You don’t need me.”

“Poppycock,” Charles loudly objected, shrugging off Jake’s hand from his shoulder, “Of course I need you! I can’t do this without you.”

“You’ll find a new partner, a better one—”

“That’s not true and we both know it.” He paused. “You’re Jake. It’s Jake and Charles ‘til the end. I’ve got your back, on the job and off,” Charles assured him. “You don’t have to do everything by yourself. You have people that care about you. Trust us to take care of you and stop taking idiotic risks. It’s not losing my partner, Detective Peralta, that scares me the most—it’s losing my best friend Jake. I saw you get hit by that car and all I could think about was that you could have died. I could have _watched_ you die and you know what? It would have been your own fault.”

Jake winced. It was true, but harsh.

“You lied to me about Atlantic City and put yourself in more danger by going after a suspect,” Charles admonished him. “I'm your partner. You should have trusted me and told me what you were planning. Maybe then I could have talked you out of it and you wouldn’t have gotten hit by a car.

“It kills me that you won’t trust me and think I wouldn’t fall to pieces if you died. It hurts me that you don’t see how important you are.” Charles put his hands on Jake's shoulders and peered into his eyes. “It breaks my heart that you can’t see how extraordinary you are and don’t value your life as much as I do.”

“I…” Jake stopped. _Jesus, what was he supposed to say to that?_ No one had ever said anything like that to him before. He was so far out of his depth that Google Maps couldn't even help him find his way. “I’m…I’m sorry,” he finally said.

Charles squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to be sorry. Just let me have your back. It’s okay to let people in and make mistakes. We’re here for you— _I’m_ here for you. You have such a big heart, Jake. I love that you care so much about people and want to help everyone, but I _hate_ that you don’t think your life is worth the same care.

“It is, I promise you, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. You are the kindest, bravest, most deserving man of love in the world and it breaks my heart you don’t see yourself how I see you. The world would be a bleak place without you in it, Jake. My life would be a bleak, dreary place without you in it.” He gently squeezed his shoulder once more before removing both hands.

Tears welled in Jake’s eyes and he willed them not to fall. Charles looked so _goddamn_ earnest, genuine and…loving. He wasn’t sure how to deal with this level of emotion. He didn’t know how to handle _this_. No one had ever looked at him like Charles was looking at him—like he was everything, like he was something precious at should be protected at all costs. Jake felt a tear roll down his cheek.

Charles reached out and gently brushed the fallen tear away with his thumb. His touch lingered.

Jake stared into Charles's eyes and leaned forward. Charles moved his hand to tenderly cup Jake’s face. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Charles’s. He melted into the tender kiss.

 _Holy shit, he was kissing Charles._ Jake jerked away. _Holy shit, he had kissed Charles._

Jake stared at his best friend and wondered if his eyes looked as wild and frantic as Charles’s. He opened his mouth then closed it when no words tumbled out. “Ummm…” he uttered.

“Yeah…” Charles replied just as stupefied.

Jake blinked. “We kissed…and it was…nice…”

“Yeah,” Charles said, seemingly incapable of saying anything else.

Jake could do this. He could adult his way through this. He was an adult. This was an adult conversation. He could adult. Gathering his courage, he candidly stated, “You're my best friend and I love you.” He paused for a moment before divulging more truths. “I’ve always imagined us growing old on the force together. I freaked out when you were going to move to Canada, because I couldn’t imagine doing this job without you. I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re Charles. Of course you’re in my life. It’s Jake and Charles. You’re always there for me. You’re my partner, I trust you to have my back. I’m lucky you’re in my life. You’re always taking care of me, supporting me, having my back and making sure I’m okay, and you make me those delicious grilled cheese sandwiches whenever I’m sad, and you always know just what to say to cheer me up, and…huh.”

He stopped. Jake hadn’t ever considered Charles as anything other than his partner and best friend before. It hadn’t occurred to him that maybe they could be more. Charles had been a part of his life for so long that Jake took his presence for granted. He took for granted all the times Charles expressed his love for Jake, especially through his cooking. All week Charles had been making Jake’s favorite food to show how much he cared. Charles poured his heart into his cooking, which he had seen countless times before with whomever Charles was dating. Food was his way of expressing his love and Jake hadn’t noticed that applied to him as well.

When Jake thought of who he wanted to spend his life with he always pictured someone who made him a stronger person, someone who believed in him and motivated him to be better, someone that made him happy, someone he could always lean on. That was Charles. He hadn’t realized it before now, but his dream person was Charles.

Charles’s brow furrowed. “Jake?” he questioned worried.

He snapped out of his enlightening thoughts. Before he lost his courage, he asked in a rush, “Do you want to go out on a date with me?” Without pausing for a response, he hurriedly continued. “I know it might be a little weird, but we work great as partners and I think we could work as _partners_ because my life would be bleak without you in it, too.” He couldn’t stop himself from nervously babbling further, “And I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this goes because I think we could make each other happy. So date? You? Me?”

Jake held his breath in silent terror, suddenly more nervous than he had been when he had asked Jenny Gildenhorn to his Bar Mitzvah.

Charles beamed. “I’d like that.”

“Cool, Cool, Cool,” Jake couldn’t help but say. He wondered what the protocol was when you asked out your best friend who had also been living with you the past couple of days. Should they keep hanging out like nothing changed? Should one of them leave? Should _Jake_ leave?

Thankfully, Charles broke the silence and took control of the situation. “I’m sorry I’ve been smothering you so much,” he apologized. “I know you can take care of yourself. I just wanted to reassure myself you were fine, but,” he grimaced, “I went a little Full Boyle about it. How about I get out of here and pick you up for our date on Saturday?” he suggested.

Jake was taken aback. “You don’t have to do that,” he said, unclear if he was referring to leaving, Charles picking him up, or both.

“I think a little space would be for the best.” He moved behind the couch to pick up his overnight bag. “Besides,” Charles said with a bright smile, “I have a date to plan.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one doing the planning? I did ask you out,” Jake pointed out.

“You can plan the next one,” Charles assured him, stepping close to him once more. “You should still be resting and I want the pleasure of planning our first date.” He reached up to lightly place a hand on the back of Jake’s neck and gently tugged him downwards so he could place a quick kiss on his forehead. He let go. “Take care of yourself, call if you need anything. I’ll see you in two days for our,” Charles beamed again, “date.” He was halfway out the door before he turned back to call out, “Oh, there’s leftover chicken noodle soup in the fridge. Goodbye, Jake."

"Bye, Charles,” he said back automatically.

The door shut. The apartment was silent. For the first time in days, Jake was alone. His apartment had never felt so empty before.


	2. The Date & After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Charles go on their first date.

In the morning, he poured himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch with a side of emotional turmoil. He couldn’t stop worrying about The Date. He couldn't help worrying that he would screw this up and lose Charles as his best friend. Jake had never had a successful long-term relationship before. He couldn’t help but worry he would lose Charles completely if—when—things turned out badly. He needed someone to talk to, but Charles had always been the one he called when he needed advice or a pep talk.

Jake stared at his phone, thinking of who he could possibly talk to about his dating crisis. Landing on the obvious person he needed, he scrolled through his contacts and dialed. The phone rang.

“Yes,” Gina answered after several rings. “How can I improve your existence today, Jake?”

“I need some advice. Should you date a friend? What if it doesn’t workout and you’re not friends anymore? What if you screw everything up? Should you even try?” he asked in a rush.

“Let me tell you a story, my young grasshopper,” Gina began. “There was this hunk of a man who was my Chinese delivery man. While we dated, I got free Chinese and very good sex. It was _so good_ , but Gina was too much for this one man to handle. My beautiful self could not be contained to one mere mortal. There was also a dashing pizza delivery man. For a short time, I was living the life, Jake. I had free pizza, free Chinese and hot, sensual sex with two hot men. There was one magical night where I had both men at once. It was everything I had hoped it would be. Then they got too clingy and wanted all of us to be in a relationship so I dumped them both. This Beyoncé isn't ready to be tied down, unless it's in the bedroom and I'm doing the tying,” she mused aloud.

“Sooo…” Jake paused trying to translate Gina speech. “So you’re saying I should go for it because it could end up being everything I ever wanted, even if there’s a chance it won’t work out?”

“I was asking if you knew any good Chinese and pizza delivery places, but sure that works, too. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Thanks, Gina!” Jake hung up feeling calmer about his upcoming date. If there was a chance they could make each other happy then he owed it to himself and Charles to take that chance. It was terrifying, but worth it.

‹ **♥ ›**

Rest, a hot shower, and an afternoon nap had helped Jake feel better than he had in days. He had even managed to raise his arms high enough to dry his own hair and bend down to put on his socks and shoes without feeling like he was being stabbed with a dull fork. He had a moment of indecisiveness about what to wear on his date before he saw that Charles had texted him while he had been in the shower.

[Image: Text from Charles sent at 7:42 PM reads: 

> Wear comfy pants & your favorite t-shirt
> 
> See you at 8:00 (heart eyes emoji)
> 
> (red heart emoji) (smiley face emoji) (2 hearts emoji) (cat face heart eyes emoji) (heart with arrow emoji) (happy face emoji) (glowing heart emoji) (hug emoji)
> 
> (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji) (sparkling heart emoji)

End Image]

Following Charles’s directions, he had dressed in his favorite jeans (the dark washed ones that he knew he looked good in) and his _Die Hard_ t-shirt with the quote “Welcome to the party, pal” on it that Charles had given him as a birthday gift years ago. The multiple emojis were concerning, though. Hopefully, Charles wasn't planning a Full Boyle tonight. He loved his buddy, more so than he had ever realized, but he did have a tendency to go overboard too soon, too fast.

The 15 heart emojis and odd clothing request made Jake more nervous than he already had been. He hoped Charles wasn’t planning to take him to one of his weird food restaurants. Charles had been putting such an effort into making the perfect food for Jake that he would gladly go to any of his more interesting restaurant picks, but he feared he would hurt his date’s feelings if he saw through his poker face. Some food choices were far too outside his comfort zone and impossible to pretend to enjoy. He was really more of a chicken nuggets, kid menu type of person.

_Knock. Knock._

Two quick knocks rapped against his door at exactly 8:00 PM. With slight butterflies in his stomach, Jake opened his apartment door to see Charles standing before him holding two pizza boxes with a case of beer precariously wedged in the nook of his arm.

“Hey, Jake,” Charles greeted with a huge smile.

“Hey,” he echoed the greeting. “Let me—” he darted forward to grab the 6-pack that started to slip and got a whiff of the delicious smelling pizza “—I thought we were going out?”

A flash of concern darted across his face. “I thought a perfect date would be eating Sal’s, drinking beer, and watching Die Hard.” Charles fidgeted and tilted his head towards the apartment. “May I?”

“Right,” he berated himself for his poor manners. “Of course come in.” He moved out of the doorway allowing Charles to enter and closed the door behind him.

Charles placed the pizzas down on the coffee table in front of the TV like he had done dozens of times before when he had come over to watch Nets games together. Jake trailed behind him and placed the 6-pack beside the pizza. Settling into familiar roles, he searched through his unorganized pile of DVDs sprawled on the floor by the TV while Charles went in search of paper plates and napkins.

This wasn't how he had pictured a Boyle date going; it felt natural, like two best friends hanging out. He couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go out to one of your fancy restaurants?”

“I wanted our first date to be perfect for both of us,” he explained while taking two paper plates off the tower of paper plates in the corner of the kitchen counter. “I know your perfect night is staying in and vegging out on the couch and—” he waited for Jake to lookup from his DVD search, ”—my perfect night is hanging out with you.”

Ducking his head to avoid eye contact, Jake was saved from saying something embarrassingly sappy back when he spied _Die Hard_ hiding beneath a _Gilmore Girls_ boxset. “Hah!” he exclaimed, holding up the DVD case in triumph. “Found it.”

They settled on the couch beside each other eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching _Die Hard_. Charles gradually inched closer to him until he was warmly pressed against his side. Even in the darkened room, it was not subtle. After three aborted moves to wrap his arm around Jake with one fake yawn and two stretches, he picked up Charles’s arm and placed it around his shoulder himself. Then Jake scooted down and leaned against Charles’s chest to achieve the perfect cuddling position.

Cuddling with Charles felt like a natural progression, like something they could have been doing ages ago. Jake watched John McClane be a total badass on TV, wrapped in the arms of his best friend, and it felt right. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. He was right where he belonged and with whom he belonged with—Charles. Jake felt bad for assuming he would go Full Boyle when their date had been perfect so far.

In no time at all, Hans Gruber was dead and the end credits were rolling.

“Die Hard 2?” Charles asked.

“You know it.”

Charles carefully scooted out from behind Jake and off the couch. He turned on the lamp by the couch then kneeled down on one knee in front of Jake.

 _Uh-oh._ “Buddy?” he questioned, extremely worried at the sudden turn of events.

“I love you,” Charles stated. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small, velvet black box. “Why wait to spend the rest of our lives together when we could start our life together now?” He opened the black box to reveal a polished, silver wedding band. “Jake Peralta, will you marry me?”

 _And there’s the Full Boyle._ “Ummm…” Jake paused. This was not a position he ever thought he would be in. “Buddy…” he trailed off again. He wasn’t sure how to turn Charles down without hurting him. Being proposed to on the first date was a first for him and he struggled on how to respond.

Charles blinked and took in the situation. He winced. “Did I just Full Boyle this?”

“Lil’ bit,” Jake confirmed with his voice reaching a near squeak high pitch volume.

“Oh.”

Charles looked crestfallen and Jake couldn’t stand that. He slide off the couch and kneeled on the ground beside him.

“I love you, too,” Jake said with no hesitance. He had loved Charles in a platonic manner for years and he could see himself falling in love with him romantically, but marriage wasn’t something he was ready to consider. “It’s only our first date, buddy, an amazing first date, but still the first date. How about we table the marriage stuff for at least a year?” he suggested.

A blinding smile instantly wiped away any remaining sorrow. “You think this date is amazing?” His eyes lit up. “You think we’ll be dating a year from now?”

“Yeah, this is the best date I’ve ever been on and,” he shrugged, “I dunno.” Self conscious, he continued his honesty, “I always pictured you in my life as my best friend for…well forever. Now…” He paused. “Now, I can picture you in my life as my maybe-more-than-my-best-friend forever.”

“Jakey…” Charles reached out and gently cupped his cheek. “I’d be honored to be your maybe-more-than-best-friend forever.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Sorry for the Full Boyle,” he apologized.

“It’s fine, Charles.” He admitted, “It was kinda sweet in an over the top kind of way.”

“I’m not going to scare you off?” he worried. “I’ll probably go Full Boyle a few more times.”

“I already know everything about you and you haven’t scared me off yet.”

‹ **♥ ›**

Charles nudged Jake awake. “I should get going,” he said reluctantly.

The darkened room was only illuminated by the DVD logo bouncing around the black TV screen. It was late, the DVD display read 3:45 AM. Watching three _Die Hard_ movies in a row may have been pushing his luck. He almost felt like himself prior to his Series of Unfortunate Accidents, but he still tired easily.

Jake was leaning heavily against Charles, warm and content. “Stay,” he urged his date. “It’s late, stay the night.”

Their first date ended with Jake falling asleep wrapped in Charles’s arms.

‹ **♥ ›**

Their relationship shift from best friends to boyfriends hardly changed their dynamic. There were no pet names in public and no PDA. Jake would have preferred zero pet names, but compromised and allowed Charles to use pet names in private if Jake was allowed to veto the more sickeningly sweet ones. They both agreed to keep their working relationship the same and as professional as it had always been. Their Epic-Bro-Time-Charles-and-Jake-Hang-Time (a phrase coined by Charles) became Epic-Boyfriend-Hang-Time (another phrase coined by Charles) or as Jake preferred to call them—dates.

Charles had exposed Jake to countless food establishments in the city that ranged from overly classy to someone’s basement. Food was important to Charles so Jake tried to keep an open mind for his boyfriend. Eventually they established a system where Jake could use two vetoes a month to veto any restaurant without question. Jake had tried countless new foods and usually enjoyed the new experience as long as Charles refrained from going into graphic detail about what exactly he was eating.

They had never intended to keep their relationship a secret, but it had been new and they wanted to keep it just between them for a little while so they hadn't told anyone. Then it became an unspoken challenge to see who in the precinct could figure out they were dating first. Jake thought Gina would be the first to figure it out since she loved gossip and they had had their brief dating a friend talk. Charles thought Terry would be the one to figure it out since he knew everything that went on in the squad. They were both wrong.

‹ **♥ ›**

Captain Holt and Kevin were hosting a dinner party that the whole squad was invited to. Jake had managed to corner Kevin alone and continued his mission to win him over and get him to call him by his first name. Jake had watched a penguin documentary the previous night in preparation.

“Did you know that the gentoo penguin can swim up to 22 mph?” Jake asked, trying to wow Kevin with penguin facts because everyone liked penguins.

“Yes.”

He tried again. “Did you know that penguins eat stones and those stones are called gastrolicks?”

“Gastro _liths_ ,” Kevin corrected. “And yes, I was aware of that fact.”

Not to be deterred, Jake was ready with another penguin fact. “Did you know—”

“If this is another penguin fact, please refrain from speaking it. I do not care for flightless birds.”

“Um-kay…” Jake was at a loss. He had only prepared penguin related conversation.

Kevin took pity on him and tried to continue their conversation, sans any birds. “How long have you and Mr. Boyle been together?” he asked, unaware he had startled Jake with his observation. “Raymond neglected to tell me you two were dating.”

Jake frantically looked around the room, but none of the squad was nearby to overhear. “Um, about 3 months,” he admitted softly.

“My apologies, I did not consider it would be a secret. I would not have brought it up if I had thought your relationship was not disclosed.” Kevin looked at Jake as if he had failed as a cop and finally succumbed to the distasteful, racist, and homophobic image he had of cops that Jake and the Nine-Nine had worked so hard to dissuade him of since their first meeting.

“No, no, no.” Jake was horrified at what Kevin was implying. “No, it’s not like that. It’s not a secret. Well—yes, it is—but not like that!” He hurried to explain, “We have this bet to see who in the Nine-Nine will figure it out first. After no one figured it out in the first month—and really we're surrounded by detectives and no one figured it out?—we divided everyone into teams to increase our chances at winning. I have Captain Holt on my team so if you could _maybe_ nudge him in the direction of figuring it out then that would be really super.”

“I will not be doing that, Peralta, but congratulations on your relationship.”

“Thanks.” One thing still bothered him, though. “How did you figure it out?”

“It was evident in the way he looked at you and you him. Words are hardly ever needed to convey one’s affection,” Kevin explained.

Charles and Jakes had agreed that since Kevin wasn't a member of the Brooklyn Police Department then it didn't count and the bet was still on. 

‹ **♥ ›**

They both lost the bet. Deputy Chief Wuntch somehow learned Jake and Charles were dating first and used the knowledge to her advantage to chastise the Captain for not having two of his officers fill out the proper paperwork with HR. _Oops_. The gobsmacked look on everyone's faces was completely worth the Captain's ire caused by Wuntch's visit.

‹ **♥ ›**

They moved in together shortly before their one year anniversary. Jake was happy. He was in a healthy long-term relationship with someone he loved and trusted to have his back. Charles had even helped him consolidate his crushing debt into one ultimate crushing debt with reasonable payments he could pay off before he retired. It would take years, but not a lifetime to finally be out of debt.

Charles was good for him. Jake found himself buying less simply because he was happier and he made an effect to cutback on buying anything too expensive and frivolous. He was trying to build a life with Charles, which was terrifying, but well worth it. In support, Charles cutback on buying expensive food and unnecessary kitchen equipment. They were both saving for their future.

On their two year anniversary, Charles recreated their first date—Sal’s pizza, beer, a _Die Hard_ movie marathon, and a marriage proposal. Jake had never felt so loved or happy before. It was easy to say yes when Charles got down on one knee and asked him to spend their lives together. He had known Charles for years and wanted him in his life for many more years to come. Jake looked forward to calling Charles his husband.

He wondered if he could convince Charles to have a _Die Hard_ wedding theme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your partner should be your best friend. Jake and Charles love each other as friends, but under the right circumstances they could become more. They have a great bromance that could become a romance if they were both so inclined.


End file.
